I am profoundly, one might even say spiritually, lucky. And also kind of dumb.

[jain]

Went to the 'N Sync concert tonight in Philly with my little sister! We had seats in the first row of the fourth section (which means a third of the way back on the floor, for anyone unfamiliar with the arena), which was a hell of a lot closer to the stage than I had been imagining. When we got to our seats, though, there were a metal fence and some spotlights directly in front of us, and a staff member standing impassively in front of it, right in our way. About half an hour before the show began, the impassive staff member was replaced by an even more impassive man from 'N Sync's security. This next bit is where I prove my stupidity: I then thought to myself, "Huh, I would get fantastic seats like this at an 'N Sync concert, where their freaking lighting display takes up a good chunk of the floor, and I just paid an exorbitant amount of money for seats where I can't see anything."

And then the concert began, and my sister and I stood up, and I finally saw what was just beyond the fence. Namely, a walkway connected to the stage. And I died.

Most of the rest of the evening is a blur to me. I'm hoping that people more rational than I are also writing their accounts of the concert, and that some of what they say will jog my memory. My brain is pretty much stuck in a continual feedback loop: 'N Sync, on the walkway, two feet away from me!

I took some no doubt crappy pictures--I am not a photographer, and the camera was very cheap. I made eye contact with Chris. He is so beautiful! JC was lovely, as well. Most of the speaking interlude was an ode to Kittentrick. Please God, tell me that someone got good pictures of Chris and Joey stroking JC's hair.

Speaking of whom, Joey completely did not annoy me. At all. I was pleasantly surprised. Lance was appropriately hot. Justin seemed a little too pleased with himself. There was one moment when he knelt down on the walkway so that the gaggle of teenyboppers diagonal to me could stroke his head. On the one hand, okay, yes, it was completely and utterly what they wanted; these girls were practically orgasming. On the other hand...ew.

The Beatles medley was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I did the whole Beatlemania thing during my adolescence, via documentaries, books, and, of course, their music. To hear my childhood and my current obsessions come together like that was absolutely amazing.

Then, during the last song, the unbelievable happened: I touched Chris's hand. Twice. I'd been so afraid that I wouldn't get a chance to do so; every other time he'd come out on the walkway, either he was too busy to touch anybody or I was gibbering pathetically to myself and doing my best to ignore the fact that 'N Sync is right, right there; take pictures, damn it!, and couldn't even wrap my mind around the idea of reaching out my hand along with every other damn person in my row to just touch him. And then, God bless sweet encores, he came out one last time. (It occurs to me that I've been invoking God a lot more often than is my wont in this entry. Ah, well; as Spock would say, "The cause is sufficient.")

My little sister touched Joey's hand. She doesn't seem to have been fantastically moved by the experience, and I can't figure out if this is because she's not that impressed with either Joey, 'N Sync, or touching pretty celebrities, or if it's because she's twelve and thinks she has to be blase about everything.

I met a bunch of slashers when it was all over--the FKA banner appears to be very useful as a tracking device. They all seemed very nice and excitable, and kept propounding instances of slashy interaction, most of which I'd barely noticed due to a complete mental meltdown sometime prior to the first song.

Nothing in my life could have prepared me for this evening. Things like this just don't happen to me! And now they did. In the most unimaginably perfect way ever. And Chris has really soft, warm hands.